


Nightmares

by Kyz



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Adoption, F/M, Foster Care, M/M, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-29 17:02:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 20,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11445195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyz/pseuds/Kyz
Summary: One direction decides to foster a 17 year old girl, however she's got a bit of a dark past that they know nothing about.





	1. Chapter 1

POV Girl.

Before the car door closed, she heard Ms. Slattery say,  
“And don’t you dare call me unless you are half dead. Understood?”  
Quietly, she replied,  
“Yes Ma’am,” before letting the door close behind her. She heard the car pull away without a moment’s pause. Turning slowly, she looked up at the stunningly enormous house before her. Perhaps it wasn’t truly enormous, but it was certainly larger than anyplace she had ever lived (but that wasn’t a difficult feat). It certainly wasn’t her first time, she had stopped counting after number 21, but she estimated that she had been in at least 5 homes if not more since then. In no rush to enter her new placement, she simply stood on the curb, enjoying the false freedom it gave her. She could run away again, but that never seemed to end well. Neither did the placements, but at least there would be a roof over her head. Besides, she wasn’t strong enough to survive on the streets, not yet.  
She must have stood there 30 minutes before a car began to roll slowly down the suburban street. Taking this as her cue, she took a deep breath, picked up her small, near empty garbage bag sitting next on the curb and began to meander up the path leading up to a few steps and finally a dark wooden door. It was getting colder and the wind chilled skin through her thin sweater and ripped jeans, but she didn’t mind. It was almost reassuring; the cold air was a condition she had lived in all her life, even before the placements.  
Once she finally reached the door, she tentatively raised her hand to knock, thinking, Please let this one be better than the last…

Li. POV. 

“She should have been her an hour ago!” I said, glancing at the clock yet again. I was pacing in front of the door, Harry was in the kitchen and had enlisted Niall as his assistant for dinner preparation, Louis was texting Eleanor and Zayn was spread out on the couch, watching everything through half opened eyes.  
“Quit worrying, she will be here soon. If not, we will just call and ask,” Zayn murmured for what must have been the 8th time in the past 20 minutes.  
But how could I possibly stop worrying? I had been waiting for this for so long. The entire process had been difficult, from convincing the boys, to convincing management, to finding an agency and finally filling out the seemingly endless paperwork. Despite normally having patience, this was trying my nerves. Light was fading quickly, how could they find the right house in the dark?  
“If she doesn’t arrive in the next 10 minutes, I’m calling, okay? What if she’s lost? What if the placement fell through? What if the-”, I stopped mid-sentence, head turning to the door. It had been just a soft tap, three times. Looking at Zayn I wondered if he had heard it too, thinking maybe I was just imagining things, but he lazily sat up and gestured to the door,  
“Well, don’t wait all day, open it.” Running one hand through my hair, I reached out, grabbed the handle, and opened the door. 

I didn’t know what I had been expecting, but she certainly wasn’t it. The sheet had specified a older teenage girl who was mostly capable of taking care of herself. This girl was tiny, couldn’t have been taller than 5ft, and looked like she was just skin and bones. Her skin was darker than Zayn’s, head topped with wavy black hair, wearing ripped jeans and a thin long sleeve jumper. What of her skin I could see seemed blemished, there was a scar just above her left eyebrow and one on her neck. Peeking out of her shirt, there were a few stitches, and her left arm was cradled in a sling and heavily wrapped.  
And we just stood there, I don’t know how long. Her eyes never left her feet. If Zayn hadn’t said anything, I don’t know how long we would have stood there.  
“Well, will you invite her in or will you stand there all night? Come on Li!”  
With that, I stumbled backwards a bit, opening the door further, bumping into Harry. I could see now that all the boys had gathered in the entrance, waiting for us. Slowly, she looked up. A mixture of shock and something else spread across her face briefly before it returned to a tense neutral, staring at her feet once again. Timidly, she stepped inside, and waited. I closed the door as Zayn began introductions. By the time he finished, she had yet to move or say anything. Not wanting to pry, I asked,  
“So, what’s your name?”  
“Bean,” she replied quietly, still staring at the ground. Zayn, once again making up for my awkwardness, ushered us all to the living room, inviting Bean to sit with us. She glanced around, seeming unsure of where to sit. Zayn offered her two choices, a spot on the sofa next to Harry and Louis, or a chair closer to the door. The chair being closer, she sat there hesitantly. We sat in a few moments of awkward silence, before Louis started with some questions,  
“How old are you?”  
“17.”  
“Where are you from?”  
“The UK.”  
“Where in the UK? London? Yorkshire? Come on, give us something to work with,” he whined.  
“Small town north of London.”  
Each time she answered, she spoke just above a whisper, just loud enough for us to hear. Even in the few words she said, I could hear a thick accent, which I believed was Indian, maybe Pakistani. She never looked up, never let go of her bag, and sat in an extremely tense stance. I suppose Louis was trying to lighten up the mood when he asked the following question,  
“How’d you get that sling? Looks like it’ll leave a pretty sick scar.”  
She froze, not moving, not breathing. A moment later, she shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. Fortunately, the tension was broken by the kitchen timer going off, and Harry said,  
“Well, sounds like the pasta’s done. Come on in and eat,” and strode off into the kitchen. We followed like ducks, Bean a bit behind us, sitting in the empty seat on the edge of the table, setting her small bag next to her.  
On the way to the kitchen, Harry must have told Louis to let her be, she didn’t seem to want to answer any more questions and didn’t seem to appreciate the all the attention. We talked within ourselves about all sorts of things, Louis had planned to take Harry out for their 6 month anniversary, Ni was heading going to the music store for a new guitar string tomorrow, we all had a meeting with Simon next week, etc. Bean kept her head down in silence. I couldn’t help but notice that she only ate the tiniest amount, a small scoop of pasta and a bit of salad. She was tiny, but that certainly wasn’t enough to sustain her. Maybe she had eaten before arriving.


	2. Chapter 2

Bean PoV.

All I could think of during dinner was how important it was to not mess up. There were five of them, five! They let me eat with them and let me serve myself food, seemingly as much as I wanted. Yet all good things come to an end, and I must be absolutely careful to not make a mistake. If I could just get through the next 10 months, I could be free. A legal adult, no one could force me to do anything ever again. I would be in control, get a job and finally, finally feel safe.

Liam PoV.

After dinner, Bean immediately began to do the dishes. It was surprising how well she could with one free arm. Harry made Louis do the dishes, gently encouraging Bean to return to the living room. She seemed a bit confused, but followed tentatively.  
“Come sit and watch the tele, you must be exhausted,” he said.  
Glancing around, she sat on that same chair. I couldn’t help but watch her, she seemed so nervous, hardly watching the half finished football match at all. A while later, Louis joined Harry on the the end of the couch that Zayn wasn’t sleeping on and texted who I could only guess was El.  
After the match, Harry turned down the volume and stated,  
“I’m guessing you don’t have much, do you? Do you need a toothbrush or something to sleep in?”  
Bean simply shrugged and said, “I have enough, thank you.”  
“We will sort everything out tomorrow, get you some more clothes and such. Here, let us show you your room.”  
He stood up along with Niall, Zayn stayed on the couch with Louis, both too preoccupied to move. As we headed upstairs, I glanced behind at Bean, who followed, glancing around at everything. Harry showed her all our rooms upstairs, except for a closet, restroom and practice room, she had seen the downstairs already. I suppose we will show her the basement another day. He presented each room, Louis’s, his, Ni’s, Zayn’s, mine and finally opened the last door, to her room.  
“Here you are, it’s all yours. We didn’t know what you liked, so everything is pretty basic. We can help you decorate if you like. You’ve got your own bathroom and hopefully tomorrow that closet will have some clothes in it.” Pausing for a second, he looked at her before saying, “Go ahead, it is for you.”  
But she didn’t move. She simply looked in the room, glancing around like she didn’t dare believe it was for her. Slowly, she walked inside and asked,  
“Really?”  
“Really. It’s yours.”  
After a moment, she murmured with shock woven in her words,  
“Thank you, thank you all.”  
“You’re welcome. We’ve been looking forward to this so much. Don’t hesitate to ask us for anything, really everything here is as much ours as it is yours now. Feel free to eat whatever, watch the tele, read any books you can find, no one else will read them, I can guarantee you that. The books are mostly Zayn’s and some we were given as gifts but Zayn has already read them, so I guess they are all yours. Anyways, you know where to find us and we can discuss other things tomorrow.” Looking at her, as if he could coax her into saying something else, he sighed before saying, “You can either come down and watch a bit more with us or stay up here, entirely your choice. Either way, welcome to the family.”  
She nodded as we quietly shut the door behind us, leaving her to herself. I didn’t want to go, I was too curious. I wanted to get to know her better, but I knew we needed to let her be.

Bean POV.

This room was amazing. I didn’t even know what to make of it. I knew I couldn’t get attached, it would be gone and over before I knew it. That’s how these things always worked. After quietly locking the door (it had a lock from the inside!) and using the restroom, I carefully picked a small pillow and blanket off the bed, placed them on the floor and laid down on top of them, preparing for another sleepless night.  
\--

When the sun finally set aglow the horizon, I rose. I went about a morning routine, one much nicer than normal, even finding that I could use warm water for a shower. I rewrapped my bandages, made sure the stitches, bruises and cuts were mostly covered. I could hear a faint snoring from Niall’s room as I tiptoed down the stairs. Once I reached the bottom, I glanced around, walking in the rooms to see if anyone was there. It seemed even Zayn had dragged himself off the couch and upstairs. I glanced in the fridge, taking stock. There was a half empty carton of eggs, some milk, a some veggies and last night’s leftovers along with some others standard food supplies. It all seemed normal, except with more food than at most places I had been. But one thing was impeccably the same about this place and every other place I had been. There was beer. Just the sight sent shivers up my spine. Subconsciously, I glanced around and shut the fridge, reminding myself to be careful-- this place was certainly not safe.

Liam POV.

I woke up to a wonderful smell and sat up drowsily. It never smelled like food, especially unburnt food, this early in the morning. Curious, I went out into the hallway, bumping into Niall on my way. Sharing an incredulous look, we padded downstairs to see Bean at the stove, cooking what appeared to be blueberry pancakes with eggs.  
I had barely gotten the word, “Morning” out of my mouth when she jumped, startled. She turned around faster than I could imagine, dropping the spatula on the ground and touching her right hand to the hot pan. Before either of us could realize what was happening, she jumped away from the stove looking between us and her hand with a terrified expression. Quickly, she darted past us, muttering,  
“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorr-,” escaping up upstairs. I ran after her, only to see her door close tightly behind her.  
At that moment, Louis stumbled out of his room, looking between us and Bean’s door with a dumbfounded expression on his face.  
“What did you do?”  
But we said nothing, too confused by why she had fled so quickly.

Bean PoV.

 _Fire, burning,_ no! My left arm hurt more than my right, which should have been odd since it didn’t touch pan. Everything was blurring, the fire, Liam, the flames, the pancakes, the past, the present. I couldn’t even focus on the fact that I had started breakfast without permission, that Liam was probably so mad, and that would certainly be consequences, especially for leaving the kitchen without addressing the situation. But I just ran my hand under the water, leaning heavily on the sink repeating under my breath,  
“It’s over, it’s over, it’s over. Everything will be okay, everything will be okay, everything will be-”  
But it was like I was back there again, and the flames were everywhere, and everything was going dark and light all at once. And I just needed to breathe, breathe, breathe.  
Breathe, breathe, breathe.

Li PoV.

It wasn’t long until the other boys had come out of their rooms as well. We all stood there, looking at Bean’s door until Zayn pulled us downstairs with a, “What happened? Full story, now.”  
And we told him, and none of us could figure out what could have possibly been wrong. It was a light burn, it couldn’t have hurt that much, could it?  
So we waited, and we waited. Harry, being the smart one, scraped the now burnt pancake off the pan, cooked the rest of the batter and had us eat. And we waited.  
Eventually, Zayn decided to take the opportunity to discuss some logistics, but I was hardly listening. It was something about how we didn’t have her file yet, but the agency should send them something later in the week with a bit more about her, but not her entire file. Unless we adopted her they wouldn’t send it. Something about her being an unusual case that made it necessary to keep the files away. The conversation shifted, Zayn discussed getting some of Wahlia or maybe even Safaa’s clothes for Bean to wear, and maybe going shopping for other things she would need as well as groceries.  
Suddenly, I realized that Zayn had stopped talking, and everyone was looking towards the stairs. Bean stood there, head down, looking unsure. She whispered,  
“Sorry,” and sat at the farthest end of the table.  
“No worries, you alright?” Zayn asked. She nodded and even though we could see her face was a bit redder than before, we let her be.


	3. Chapter 3

Bean had been with us for a full two days. She hardly said anything, ate very little and seemed to tiptoe around us, no matter how hard we tried to make her feel welcome. It was a relief to get a call during our break at the studio from a woman who introduced herself as Carol from the Foster agency. Thirty minutes later, she had explained a bit to us about Bean and given us some advice. She told us that Bean’s was a special case. It was sealed from any future foster care providers, thus we could only have the most basic information about her. Her age, her first name, and any basic physical health bits such as that she has broken ribs, left arm in a cast and stitches. We were given the date of her next appointment and told to make an appointment for the following day at a local doctor’s office for a mandatory initial health visit. The rest she gave us as advice that legally we could take or leave. She advised us, with no explanation other than that she couldn’t tell us why, to be careful. “Give her space, let her come to you, absolutely no physical contact that she doesn’t initiate-not even a high five, be clear about when you are giving her a choice, don’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do” etc. When we explained the kitchen incident, she tutted knowingly, but didn’t comment. Finally, she said to call her if anything came up, saying something under her breath about just trying to help those poor kids who were forgotten by the system. We left the conversation with more questions than answers, but agreed that we were going to simply have to pay attention to Bean and how she reacted to everything. Just be careful.

After the call we were all more aware of Bean and what she did. I picked up on some things, like how she never looked us directly in the eye, was always up much earlier than the rest of us, never turned her back to us. She was tense, and none of us knew how to help. We simply carried on, inviting her to watch tele with us, making small conversation, anything.

The following day was normal, or as normal as they could be considering that Bean had arrived a mere 3 days prior and that we had the week off, a rarity for us. Bean was in the habit of having breakfast already made, even though we told her it wasn’t necessary. We went about with our daily lives, Louis and Harry off on dates and Ni meeting up with friends. Zayn mostly stayed at home, after all he was Bean’s legal guardian. We had decided he should be the legal guardian simply because he was the oldest and perhaps the most responsible. After meeting Bean, he decided it might be best to spend the first few days at home, letting her acclimate. I mostly stayed home as well, but today I figured that I had to go to the gym. So at about 11am I had my gym bag slung over my shoulder and was just slipping my shoes on when I realized that Bean was standing at the end of the hallway. After a brief moment of eye contact, she looked down again before asking an odd question,  
“Am I permitted to go outside?” I stood for a moment, taken aback. I realized that she had looked up once again, as if examining my face for an answer or reaction. A moment later I stuttered out,  
“Of course. Really, you can go wherever you like whenever you like.” Taking a breath, I joked, “Don’t worry, it’s not like this is a prison or anything.”  
“Okay, thank you,” she replied. It was the closest expression to that of contentment, or maybe just relief, that I had seen on her face. Awkwardly, I edged before the door,  
“I’m heading out to the gym, anywhere you would like to go?” She simply shook her head, and watched me as I headed out. As I was pulling out the driveway and down the street, I saw our front door open and Bean tentative step out. The entire way to the gym I couldn’t shake how odd it was that she felt she needed to ask permission for something as simple as whether or not she could open the door and step outside.

\--

About one week in, El and Perrie came over. They had wanted to come meet Bean the day after she arrived but upon seeing her, we decided it would be best to wait. Bean seemed to relax just a bit more when they were around. It was hardly noticeable, but she tensed right back up when they began to talk about taking her shopping. As politely as she could, she refused, saying she had more than enough, thank you. They left the offer open and gave her their numbers in the cell phone we had gotten her a few days before but she still hadn’t touched. It was like she didn’t believe we had really given it to her.

\--  
Yet again, Bean only had a bit of food on her plate. Just a pinch of lettuce and a half a slice of toast. It was dinner, and the boys all had a long couple of days. They had given her space, and as both the doctor and Carol suggested (nearly 2 ½ weeks ago), not pushed her, but today Harry had enough.  
“Bean, hon, you’ve got to eat more than that. Here, have some chicken, it is good.”  
“Thank you, but I have enough.”  
“No, Bean, you need to eat more. You can’t survive like that. You have to eat something more. Come on, it isn’t that bad.”  
“Please, the food is very good, thank you, but I can’t eat any more.”  
“Why not?”, Harry demanded.  
Bean hesitated before insisting, “I can’t.”  
The conversation continued like this before the other boys joined in, Louis saying,  
“Come on, just a bit more can’t hurt.”  
Niall added in his bit with a joke, I was simply uncomfortable and Zayn simply watched Bean’s face, as if he wanted to see through her skull and straight into everything she wasn’t saying. And it just went on like this. Bean looking down without saying a word, and Harry, Louis and Niall trying to get her to eat just a little more. Finally in the middle of one of Harry’s tangents, Bean spoke quietly,  
“I wasn’t allowed to eat.”  
For the first time since the beginning of the conversation, the room went entirely silent. All eyes were on her.  
“What?”questioned Louis. “What do you mean, you weren’t allowed to eat?”  
The room returned to silence before Bean took a deep breath and spoke yet quieter,  
“I just wasn’t. On good days I could eat a little,” Bean paused before continuing, gaining speed. Li could see her hand was shaking just below the table. “But I didn’t deserve it. I never did the chores correctly, so I didn’t get food. I was so hungry, I couldn’t concentrate. Sometimes he -,” With that, she stood up from the table and putting her hand over her mouth, before pacing, then running her hand through her hair, letting her arm cover her face. Hand shaking, she whispered,“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.”  
“Shit,” was the first thing out of Harry’s mouth. The rest just stared, before Louis started,  
“Bean-”  
“Please no,” she said quickly, Liam could see the panic spreading across her face.  
Louis started again, quieter, “Bean we’re so sorry. We didn’t know.” Harry, caught up in his anger at the world that made Bean feel like this, cursed,  
“Damnit!” under his breath. With that, Bean glanced at them with pure terror written on her face. She fled out the door, barefooted down the sidewalk, muttering a string of “sorrysorrysorry” as she went. Liam stood to go after her, but Zayn stopped him.  
“Let her go”, he said. “Give her space.”

And she just ran and ran, as far as she could. It was dark, the sun having set an hour ago, but she kept going. Finally, she reached a park, where she found a suitable tree, scaled up to the top branches, and cried. And it didn’t matter how bad her ribs hurt, or her lungs squeezed, or her arm burned. They would never want her after learning that, never.

Liam PoV.  
Two hours, thirty seven minutes and twelve seconds had passed since she left. Harry, cursing again, had barged up to his room, from where Louis had fetched him an hour ago. Zayn, being the only one with a cool head had put away the food and washed the dishes two hours ago, scraping the remains of Bean’s dinner into the compost. They all waited at the table, checking their phones multiple times a minute. Both Niall and Liam had tried to convince Zayn to let them go looking for her, but he had stopped them. He just repeated, “Give her space, don’t make the same mistake twice.”  
So they waited. Zayn had already said multiple times that she was a smart kid and could find her way back, not to mention she had the cell they had gotten for her just two weeks ago. Louis made yet another round of tea, and they waited.

Liam was about two minutes away from calling Bean when they heard the door squeak ever so slightly. It took all his willpower to not barge into the entryway and hug her so tight. But they waited. After what seemed like an eternity, Bean stood just within the doorway of the kitchen, head down, feet slightly dirty, arm around her waist protectively. With a slight whisper, she finally cut the silence,  
“I’m sorry. If you wish to return me, I understand. Thank you for everything,” She turned to leave, but was stopped by Liam,  
“Wait, no, we really want you to stay,” He paused, “you are a part of our family. Please, we want to be there for you, help you.”  
Zayn said quietly, “We understand if you wish to return, but we want this to be your home, and we want to be your family, whatever that will mean. The choice is yours, we don’t want to push you.”  
With just a glance at Bean’s face, anyone could see look of shock and confusion that washed across her face. After looking at the boys for a minute, she nodded, thanked them, and then retreated upstairs, not to emerge from there until morning.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been two weeks since the food incident. She hadn’t run away again, which Liam was relieved by, but she certainly wasn’t normal. Sure, they had their routine. Each morning, the boys would wake up and Bean would already be up and about, typically with some sort of breakfast ready even though they all insisted they could do it themselves. Despite reminding her that it was okay, she didn’t have to do any chores if she didn’t want to, the house was cleaner than it had ever been. She hadn’t gone to the studio or really anywhere yet. When they asked her if she would like to go somewhere she just shrugged her shoulders, maintained eye contact with the floor tiles and said nothing. It was fine with the boys, they were exhausted from days of writing, recording and meeting after meeting. All they wanted to do once they returned home was relax. It didn’t slip past their notice that she hardly talked, but they were happy to see that her food intake had increased just the slightest and she flinched less when any of the boys came within a five foot radius of her. Any progress was good for the moment.  
Despite her appearance, Bean was entirely self sufficient. She did everything around the house and was working her way through some online courses on Louis’s old laptop. They had agreed to give her space around her education, simply insisting that she take whatever courses needed to graduate high school by the following summer. From what little they knew, it appeared as if she had already finished two of the ten week courses and had started new ones. Liam remembered the day they had brought up finishing high school. They were all so nervous having spent a few evenings sprawled out on Zayn’s bed trying to figure out how to break it to her that she would have to finish school. When they finally did at dinner one evening, they got the opposite reaction to what they had expected. She was so happy, thanking them profusely. It was the closest thing they had seen to a smile on her face.

Liam PoV.  
It was time for her to return to the hospital. Something about removing stitches, getting her arm out of the cast, etc. She hadn’t mentioned how she ended up with so many injuries and while we were all curious, none of us dared to ask. It was decided that Zayn and I would go with her to the hospital. Ni had a date with a girl he hadn’t stopped talking about for the past two weeks and Louis and Harry decided that they would spend their long waited day off together to visit Gemma at her summer internship, leaving just us two. Zayn had to go--he was technically Bean’s legal guardian even though we all were equally involved in her life. I just really wanted to go, any opportunity to get to know Bean better was golden. Thus we three clambered into Zayn’s car early that morning and off we went. Zayn didn’t even grumble about how early it was.  
The drive there was quiet. Zayn eventually turned on the radio but none of us dared to speak. Bean always seemed tense. Even though she rarely looked up, she was more attuned to what was happening around her than any of the rest of us, giving her a constant tense figure. But this morning she seemed more tense than normal. In the back seat she kept on fidgeting, glancing around and tucking and untucking her free hand from Waliyha’s old jumper pocket. When we finally arrived I asked her,  
“You okay?” She nodded silently. I continued, saying “It is okay to be nervous but I’m sure the nurses are nice enough.” Not getting any response, we headed inside. I was thankful to see how few people were there -- Bean was tense enough already. It was only a moment after Zayn had signed her in that she was called in a room by the nurse. Zayn and I remained in the waiting room.

Bean P.o.V.

Hospitals. All the memories in just the smell of disinfectant. I could barely keep my hand from shaking as I followed the nurse down the hall and into a small room. Sitting down where told, I gingerly took off my jumper so she could get at the stitches on my arms. I choose to look out the window as she took them out silently. Taking stitches out of my arms, my hip, shoulder to collar bone, out of my legs and finally, checking on the ones on my abdomen. Halfway through she began asking me the typical questions, Are they nice to you? Have they hit you? Do you have access to an adequate diet? And on. For the first time in so long, I realized that I wasn’t lying when I answered the questions. Yes, they are nice, no, they haven’t hit me. Nonetheless, I had to remind myself that all good things come to an end. The bandage being taken off my left arm was evidence enough. I hated looking at it. The raw, slowly healing skin reached down to just above where my wrist used to be, my hand gone.  
Before we left she told me that I didn’t need the sling anymore, what was left of my left arm just needed to be rewrapped every day. I would have to come in two weeks later to get the rest of the stitches out and check on my arm. As we went out, I grabbed the sling off the table, tucking it into my pocket along with my freshly wrapped arm. The nurse quickly found Zayn and Liam telling them to make an appointment for two weeks from now. As Zayn did that, I slipped off to the restroom, putting on my sling once again before finding them once again. No one noticed that I didn’t need the sling and that was perfectly fine by me.

The rest of the day was uneventful. I could see one hundred questions crossing Liam’s mind but he didn’t ask. I made dinner that evening and even though Liam said I didn’t need to; I knew I had to. Harry mentioned how since they were nearly done with recording the new album they would have more free time. I was just relieved that none of them asked about the appointment today.

\--

_The flames are everywhere and it is so hot and I can’t breathe and just try to breathe. But I can’t take it anymore and before I know it a scream escapes my mouth because the flames are so close to my arm and my wrist feels as if it is being severed by the damn chains and I just can’t get away but I need to get away and it is getting darker with smoke and lighter with flames and I need to get away. My lungs are hurting and there is blood trickling out of my shoulders, arms and legs but it doesn’t matter because I can’t breathe. I need to breathe, need to breat-_

“Needtobreathe, needtobreathe, need to breathe,” Bean chants so quietly only she can hear it above the blood rushing in her ears. Her breaths are coming in and out as silent gasps, her chest heaves and the blankets that once covered her have been pushed aside as she scrambled off the floor and backed herself in a corner. She sat there for some amount of time. Five, ten, maybe thirty minutes. It doesn’t matter how long because it is still dark outside with only the slightest sliver of light killing the stars in the sky in preparation for day. The house is silent like the neighborhood and the rest of London. Finally, she pulls herself off the ground, still chasing away the remnants of memory, her hand still shaking and prepares herself for the day. She doesn’t forget to slip the sling on her arm, careful to see that it covers past where her fingertips would have reached just three months earlier, and tiptoes downstairs. It is an average start to her day, at least she got to sleep until the sun began to rise.  
But her day isn’t so average. A few hours later she is in the car with the five boys and they are heading off together to the studio. Bean can’t hide away, not today. Louis is determined to get her out of the house and the rest agree that today would be a nice low-key day for her to join them. Bean is tightly clutching Louis’s old laptop for her schoolwork and has made herself seem even smaller as she squeezes against the car door. Li is sitting next to her, trying to relax and not worry too much about how tense Bean is.  
Luckily, there are very few people at the studio today. They make it up the stairs and down the hallway before entering in the recording booth. No one has arrived yet so Niall opens the door with their key. The studio is split into two parts, separated by glass. One side is quite small, containing only a microphone. The other is much more spacious with a sound board, computer and other equipment along with couches and chairs set up as a cozy lounge. For the boys, the studio is like home; for Bean, it is an unfamiliar space that needs to be navigated with caution. Eventually, she finds a chair as out of the way as possible and watches. She watches the boys warm up, joke around and double check lyrics. With a shy wave she greets Dave, the sound producer, before returning to watching everything around her. By the end of the day, she has done very little work, being so busy worrying.


	5. Chapter 5

Liam PoV.

“Ruth is back in Wolverhampton visiting spending the a week with my parents before going back to university. They are so…” I am babbling once again. It is just Bean, myself and a sleeping Zayn. I had just gotten off the phone with my parents and Bean is sitting in her usual chair with Louis’s old laptop perched in her lap. She was doing schoolwork while I called home. The boys were dispersed throughout the house, and Zayn taking up the entire couch except for the small sliver I was curled up on. Once the call was ended, I decided to tell Bean a bit about my family. The boys and I had been discussing what we could do to make her feel more comfortable, maybe even enough to open up herself. It hadn’t worked yet. She just nodded along pleasantly, never offering opinion or personal connections. But anyways here I was babbling. Eventually, I paused, taking a deep breath after realizing how long I had been talking. Even Zayn was stirring and I could practically see the ‘shut up already’ written in the crease of his eyebrows. The room was silent, Bean had stopped typing for quite a while now and the only sounds was Zayn’s breathing.  
“Can, erm, would you like to, I guess, go with me to my family?” Zayn woke up at the sound of Bean’s question, quirking his eyebrow before stealing a glance at me, just as shocked as I was.  
“Um, er, yes?” I stuttered, looking at Zayn for help. Zayn, sitting up, asked,  
“Are they nearby?”  
“Er, no. You don’t have to come.”  
Quickly, I replied,  
“No, no, we would love to go. Would you like just us or could all of us go?”  
“All would be okay.”  
“Alright, I will get the boys. You will show us where?”  
“Ya.” With that, she went upstairs. I followed, going into Louis and Harry’s room. Zayn went to get Niall and we both explained as quickly as possible what was happening. Within minutes, everyone was by the door. Bean was already outside with Wahliya’s jacket on. Moments later we were getting in the car, Zayn driving. The only sounds were Bean’s directions. The drive must have taken at least 20 or so minutes, even though there was nearly no traffic. Finally, we stopped just outside of London, pulling over to the side on a gravel road. Bean leading the way, we followed her a few paces behind. It was quiet, a few houses on the left and woods on the right. It didn’t take long for us to realize what she meant by ‘visit’ her family. She pulled open an old rusty gate and made her way past the rows of headstones, weaving her way through before stopping before two small headstones. She reached in her pocket, pulling out two candles, balancing one just above the name “Soona Avari” and one above “Abhijit Avari”. With the matchbox held between her knees, she lit the candles before stepping back.  
We remained like that for a few minutes. Just looking between the headstones and Bean. None of us knew anything about Bean’s family. I had simply assumed that she had always been an orphan but the dates inscribed indicated that Bean had been alone for 9 years. If her voice wasn’t so quiet and gentle, I would have startled at the recommencement of sound in silence,  
“They were the best parents I could have asked for. But they were killed by a drunk driver one day when I was in school.” She paused, glancing up at us for the first time since arriving at the cemetery and said, “I don’t like, erm, talking about the past, but if you want, I can try to answer questions you have.”  
We glanced amongst ourselves, trying to hide our surprise. Bean never talked about herself, or the past, and now having the opportunity to ask questions! I was simply dumbfounded. Thankfully, Zayn asked,  
“Did you have any siblings?”  
“No, just us three.” We paused in silence before Zayn asked another question,  
“Do you have other family?”  
“Yes, well no. We’ve lost contact with them. They’re still in Pakistan, I think.” Not wanting to scare her by asking too deep questions, Louis asked,  
“What’s your favorite colour?” She looked up with surprise seeping through the edges of her normally unreadable face,  
“Blue, like the sky. What’s yours?”  
“I dunno, all of them.”  
Needless to say, it was the best day they had had in a long time.  
…

 _Everything hurt. My head resting on the ground, eyes watching the hard surface. I took it. The belt hitting my back, legs anywhere. Arms wrapped around my head protectively. I don’t know how long it’s been, but I stay still, stay silent, don’t make it worse._  
Bean’s curled up on her self-made floor-bed, arms around her head, whole body shaking. Sometimes a pained whimper escapes her lips, however she remains mostly silent. Slowly the shaking lessens, her eyes slowly open, staring at the soft blanket beneath her. Pushing herself up, she looks around, regaining her surroundings. The night is black outside, she still can’t breathe. Only sounds are her rasping breaths. Unable to take it any longer she rises, throwing on a sweater, some jeans and a pair of sneakers. Doesn’t bother with the sling, it’s too early for anyone to be awake, besides she doesn’t think she can stand feeling trapped by anything. Slowly, she makes her way to the door, creeping out and down the stairs. The house is silent as she approaches the door. Quietly, she turns the lock and opens the door, but the silence is broken. The alarm has been set off, she doesn’t know how to turn it off, backing away from the door frantically and into the kitchen. She’s shaking again, a mumbled “sorry, sorry, sorry” as her arms raise to protect her face. A moment later, Zayn and Liam come running in, as Bean sees them she retreats further, her back hitting the counter. Can’t breathe, can’t breathe, just breathe.

Liam’s PoV.

We should have shown her how to disable the alarm. It isn’t there to keep her in, and we certainly didn’t want her to feel trapped but it’s too late for that. Zayn and I are stuck, no idea what to do as the other boys join us on one end of the kitchen. Bean’s in the corner, curled up, arms covering her head, shaking and breathing hard and mumbling something we can’t quite make out--is it even English? Slowly Zayn approaches her, talking to her softly. It’s not working, she is breathing harder, sometimes not even succeeding to actually breathe, just gasping. Zayn says “panic attack, the fewer people the better when she works out of it. Turn off the alarm, go back to bed. When everything’s settled, I’ll come get you. Li, stay down here.” Nodding, we take his orders. Following his lead, I sit, back against the cupboards, a bit more than 4 metres from Bean. Together, we wait and watch.  
I don’t know how long we sat there, but eventually, her breathing slows, the shaking subsides. Still, we wait. Carefully, Zayn rises and fills a clean glass with water. Returning to his seated position, he gently pushes the water to Bean, until the glass sits just a metre from her still trembling figure. And we wait.  
I never realized how much patience Zayn has until this moment. He isn’t watching her, just quietly scrolling through his phone, body slightly angled in Bean’s direction, but not facing her. I’m doing my best to not watch her, eventually settling to look over Zayn’s shoulder, glancing at Bean a bit too often. Surely enough, her breathing slows, arms slowly collapse from their position of protection, carefully pushing the rest of her body up into a sitting position. She retreats even further into the corner, peering over her knees, her wrapped arm cradled in close to her body. Giving her a few minutes to readjust, Zayn slowly puts down the phone, giving her his entire attention without looking at her directly.  
“You okay kid?”  
Bean replies with a nod, still not looking at us directly. Zayn continues,  
“I’m sorry we never showed you how to turn off the alarm. We use it at night for extra protection, it wasn’t aimed at you. If you would still like to go outside, you can--we don’t want you to feel trapped. You wanna talk about why you had a panic attack?”  
She doesn’t move, eventually raising her shoulders in a shrug. Zayn just waits until she says,  
“Bad dream, wanted air.”  
“Okay, do those happen often?”  
Bean just nods. Turning finally to look at her directly, Zayn says,  
“We are here for you if you ever need anything. I know you aren’t comfortable with us just yet, but you a can always come talk to one of us, or just sit in silence if that helps. Okay? We want you to feel at home here with us, but that will take time. Li and I are heading upstairs, and we can talk in the morning, if that’s okay with you?”  
She nods once more. Zayn and I slowly stand up, not missing how she tenses and flinches at our movements, despite how careful we are. With one last glance, we slip upstairs, joining the rest of the boys where they have gathered on Zayn’s bed.  
“She’s okay, said she had a nightmare and needed some air. I’m going to try to talk with her a bit more in the morning, but for now just make sure to give her space, ya?”

…

It took Bean over an hour, but eventually she got enough energy and courage to pull herself off the floor and up the stairs. Once she reached her room, she let her body collapse on blankets and pillows, eyes shutting involuntarily, falling into sleep.  
When she jerked awake, the first thing she noticed was that it was already morning, spiking fear in her chest. The second thing she noticed is that she was free, the ropes and chains that inhabited her dreams were not a current reality. Her wrists tingled but she hardly noticed, feeling the rising fear that came with waking up late. In the 1D household, she had always been awake before the sun rose, who knew what they would do now that she was late? After cleaning herself up a bit, Bean worked up enough courage to unlock her door and quietly slip down the stairs.

Liam Pov.

Zayn was on his third cup of tea and Louis was on his second-- two more than an average morning called for. The tele was on and Zayn had his nose buried in a book while Niall was dozing on the couch and Harry was cuddled up so close to Louis that they might as well have been one person. My cell was opened to Twitter with the purpose of replying to fan tweets. We had all gotten up at least two hours earlier than normal, I suppose an abnormality we would only perform for someone we consider family, especially taking account for how much Ni liked his sleep. We were waiting for Bean to come downstairs. Just waiting.

Bean Pov.

I was tiptoeing down the stairs. Is it too late to turn back? Maybe they wouldn’t notice if I just never came out? No, that wouldn’t work. When I reached the last step, I paused again. Taking a deep breath and readjusting my arm in the sling I no longer needed, I peered around the corner. They were all there. All of them. Before I knew it, my breath was picking up again and I was backing up, tripping up the last step. Through my mounting panic I could hear Zayn,  
“Harry, Louis, and Niall, go to the store and get some groceries. I will fill you in later but we aren’t going to get anywhere with so many people around. Liam, you’re staying ‘cause she didn’t seem to mind you last night. Okay? Got it? When you come back, go in through the backdoor and don’t come in here unless I have told you otherwise.”  
Louis looked like he wanted to disagree, but with one look at Zayn’s all serious face, he sighed and they quickly walked out the door, grabbing their jackets as they went.  
“Bean?” Zayn took a few steps sideways just so he could see me in the stairwell while keeping his distance. “Bean love, would you come sit with us? I promise we aren’t mad, alright?”  
With that he turned and joined Li on one end of the couch, picking up his book and waiting. I let my breathing slow, panicking now wasn’t going to help me. Deciding to get this over with, I edged into the room, taking a seat in a chair that provided quick access to the front door in case I need to flee. Finishing his page, Zayn closed his book, setting it on the couch next to him. Leaning forward gently to place his elbows on his knees and facing me, Zayn began,  
“Bean, I know you are still adjusting. I know this is tough and that you might never really trust us. That’s okay, we understand that we entered your life quite late. But here is what we want you to know. First, when we decided to foster you, we planned to be a part of your life as long as you will have us. If there is something you need, talk to us and we can work it out. I’ve done some research, and what I have found would suggest that you should start therapy to help recover from the past. We’ll give you time to think about it, ya? When you have an answer, just come talk to us. Second, you have the freedom to do as you wish, within certain boundaries. You can go out, come back, whatever. What we ask is that you let us know somehow that you are out and an expected return time. You can text us, knock on my door, leave a note on the table, anything. We just want to know when to expect you home, ya? Finally, what of your medical records I’ve read would indicate that you don’t need the sling anymore. If it makes you more comfortable to wear it, go ahead, but don’t feel as if you need to hide your arm from us. Alright? Now let’s go learn how to turn off that alarm.”


	6. Chapter 6

Liam Pov.

My room is right next to Bean’s. Walls are well insulated, but not enough to keep out all noise. But I hadn’t heard anything from her room since she got here, well at least until tonight. It was 3am and I woke up, unsure of why. I tried to fall asleep again, but no avail. I heard a noise from her room, maybe a voice? I quietly got up, throwing on a shirt and straightening my joggers. Walking towards her room, I paused at the sound of her voice once again. It sounded pained, hurt, maybe pleading? I knocked on her door, “Bean?” Nothing. I knocked again and when she didn’t reply I considered getting Zayn. Just as I was turning my back, I heard her again. Unsure of what to do, I knocked once more before trying the door. It was unlocked and I quietly swung it open. At this moment, I realized I hadn’t been in her room since the first day. The room was the same as it had been, as if Bean wasn’t living there at all. The only difference was the blankets were pulled off the bed and in the corner. Sandwiched between the blankets, Bean was shaking. Cautiously walking over, I approached her, determining that she was having a nightmare. I called her name, talked to her, but the nightmare seemed to get worse. The shaking increased, her arms folded over her head protectively, mumbling something nearly incomprehensible that was occasionally interrupted by a sharp “No!” or pained noise.  
At this point I was getting worried, pulling out a my cell, I sent a quick text to Zayn explaining the situation and asking him to come. Putting away my phone, I crouched down next to Bean and gently placed his hands on her shoulders, shaking her awake. She didn’t seem to react until a moment later, her eyes flying open, scrambling further back into the corner, arms out protectively. She seemed to be only half present, I was unable to get her full attention. I jumped as Zayn’s hand touched my shoulder, guiding me to the wall, just a metre away from Bean’s quaking figure. And we waited.   
When Bean’s shaking finally settled some, and she lowered her protective arms just a bit, Zayn spoke quietly,   
“Another nightmare?”  
Bean nodded.  
“These happen often?”  
Bean nodded again.  
“You okay?”  
Bean paused, looked up at us for the first time that evening. Although her tear-streaked face indicated otherwise, she nodded once again.   
“That offer for you to see someone, maybe a therapist, is still open. Just let us know if you want to try it, no pressure. Think about it, I believe it’s worth a try. You’ve got to start getting some decent sleep.”  
Bean trained her eyes on the ground, but it was clear Zayn was getting to her. After saying goodnight, we quietly left her room. 

…

To my surprise, Bean was once again already awake and had breakfast made, as if she had been up for hours. After her nightmare, I figured that she would sleep in, but I suppose she had other plans. Of the boys, I was awake first, so Bean sat and ate with me. Although she ate much less than what I thought was healthy, it was more than when she first arrived, and I could she she was struggling even with so little food. Breakfast was silent, and Bean seemed a bit off, perhaps due to the nightmare. Her hand shook just the tiniest bit as she ate, and she kept her head down, not even daring to glance over at me. It thus surprised me when she said a simple,  
“Okay.” I gave her a moment before replying,  
“Okay?”   
She hesitated. “I’ll, um, maybe, uh, I could try seeing someone. Like a therapist?”  
“Yes, Bean, of course! We’ll start researching, find you someone good. No pressure right? If it doesn’t work out for any reason, that’s okay. We just want you to try. I’m so proud of you Bean.”  
For the first time that morning she glanced up at me, worried at first, but then letting a guarded, but positive look slide on her face. Not quite a smile, but good enough for me.

That positive look remained on her face, at least until Harry walked in the kitchen and Bean jumped, quickly moving to clear her dishes, still hiding her left in her pocket.   
When Zayn finally came downstairs, Bean had already retreated upstairs, probably to Louis old laptop to do more schoolwork--it was amazing how fast she was going through her classes. I told Zayn, and we immediately began looking for therapists, searching until we had to go back to the studio. Despite Bean’s rough night, I was positive nothing could ruin today.


	7. Chapter 7

When we returned from the studio, something felt off. Normally, we could hear the very quiet sounds of Bean making something in the kitchen, or at least the sound of her typing. Today, nothing. The other boys didn’t seem to notice much. Louis and Harry far too deep in their own world to notice and Niall had headed straight for the kitchen. Sharing a look, Zayn and I took to searching the house to find her. It didn’t take long. I found Bean curled up on a chair in the corner of the living room, fast asleep. She was wearing athletic leggings and a breathable long sleeve. Having seen her running shoes in the corner of the entryway rather than upstairs, she must have gone for an afternoon run and then decided to take a nap. Maybe she is finally starting to get a little more comfortable.  
...Or not. The optimistic thought that she might be more comfortable was quickly omitted as we noticed the beginning of nightmare, similar to last night. Her hand began to shake, her head bowed down into her chest, breathing quicker. She held her arms up, protecting her head and her feet twitched, like she was trying to run but couldn’t go anywhere. Under her breath she began muttering a mantra of “no, please no. Stop, no!” Pleading occasionally letting out a pained noise, accompanied by a full body flinch.  
Slowly, Zayn and I approached her, Niall eventually joining to watch at a distance, a bit dumbfounded. Zayn started,  
“Bean, baby, wake up. Bean you’re okay.” But she only curled deeper into the chair, her still bandaged arm raised higher to protect her face. I tried, moving closer to her side,  
“Bean, please wake up. We’re right here, nothing bad is going to happen just wake up. Come on Bean, wake up.”  
She only became more anguished, her face curling up in pain, her entire body shaking in fear. Looking at Zayn, we silently agreed. Calling her name once more, I reached out and gently took her hand. For just a second, her whole body froze, then she was wide awake. Same as the last night, she instantly backed away from us, eyes wide and unrecognizing. Zayn and I stayed low, holding our hands out to show her that we weren’t going to hurt her and saying calming words. However, unlike last night, she didn’t simply retreat, taking a moment before recognizing us. Her breathing quickened, and before we knew it she was having a panic attack.  
I should have thought out my actions a bit more thoroughly, but in the moment, it seemed like the only option. In one motion, I moved forward, picking up Bean and cradling her in my lap, in a big hug. At first, she squirmed, she pushed, and tried everything in her power to get me to let go. But I just stayed, mumbling kind words to her until she wasn’t fighting anymore, just shaking and taking short, panicked breaths. With time, her breathing slowed, until near normal. Maybe I was dreaming, but she might have even nuzzled her head into my chest just the slightest. We remained like this, Bean in my lap, me cradling her and saying quiet reassurances, Zayn and Niall looking on rather incredulously. Zayn was the first to speak,  
“You okay Bean?”  
Hesitantly, she nodded, though not moving herself from my embrace.  
“You want to sleep some more? That nap can’t have been very restful.”  
She turned her head enough to look at Zayn, before nodding once again, surprisingly compliant.  
Carefully, with her still in my lap, I scooted back towards the couch, gently raising myself to sit on the couch, Bean still in my arms. Although looking more worried than before, she stayed there with me. Zayn checked in once again, asking if she was okay, and upon getting small nod, he stood up, and went to the kitchen, taking Niall with him. Bean and I stayed on the couch. Despite us knowing that she had lost her left hand, she continued to hide it, tucked under her right arm. Sighing, I cradled her a little more tightly. Just as her eyes were finally drooping, her small right hand came up to rest on mine. 

Waking up didn’t go as well. She began to have another nightmare, her face contorting in fear and pain, her arms raising to protect her head, and then she was up. Pushing herself out of my arms and off the couch. Backing away from me, she kept her head down before quickly fleeing upstairs. 

At dinner, she practically ignored me, keeping her head down and only joining in on conversation with a silent nod of her head at a yes/no question. Embarrassed maybe? I couldn’t quite tell but I suppose we had taken a couple too many steps forward, things were moving too fast and she didn’t know how to handle it. Neither did I.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been five days since that night when I found Bean having a nightmare. Every night since, I had woken up to the same sounds, once again rushed to her room, and proceeded to wake her up from the nightmare. Every day, Bean seemed to be more and more lost in her head, and exhausted. She spooked at the tiniest movements and sounds, she zoned out frequently. Once she even fell asleep at dinner, only to jolt awake minutes later and quickly rush upstairs, whispering ‘sorry’ under her breath. Although we were worried, we didn’t know what to do. Zayn, hoping to get Bean out of her head, brought Waliya’s Harry Potter series, which somewhat helped. Bean went through the first two books quickly, moving on to the third without sacrificing her normal school-work pace. For a short while, Bean stopped having nightmares, or at least nightmares that woke me up as well.   
Bean started staying up later with us. Normally, she would slip off to her room about two hours before us. Now, she stays up just as late, only going to her room when all leave the downstairs for our own beds. She would sit up, with either her schoolwork or her latest Harry Potter book, occasionally dozing off before jerking awake again. I’m a bit ashamed to admit it, but I found it adorable. She was trying so hard to stay awake but struggled nonetheless. However, I quickly began to notice a pattern. Bean wasn't just exhausted in the evening, but also during the day. Something was off, but none of us wanted to break the peace and confront her.   
One night, Bean was having a particularly difficult time staying awake. It was late and only Zayn, myself, and Bean were at home, the others having decided to go clubbing. Bean had fallen asleep once again, only to wake up sharply when the Harry Potter book slid off her lap, making a loud noise upon hitting the ground. Bean bolted awake, before sheepishly collecting her book off the ground once again. Zayn had enough of whatever was going on, and asked her,  
“Bean, love, you’re knackered. Go to upstairs and sleep love.”  
But Bean didn’t move, just keeping her eyes glued to the closed book on her lap.   
“Bean?,” but he got no response. “Love, you’ve got to get some sleep or you’ll collapse. Why won’t you sleep?”  
It took a moment, but finally we got a small whisper from her,  
“I can’t sleep.” I couldn’t help but ask,  
“Why not Bean?”  
She tilted her head, enough to scan our faces, almost as if seeing if she could judge for a response. Finally, turned her head again to the ground and spoke,  
“I can’t sleep through the nightmares. I wake up yelling, and I don’t want to wake you up anymore.”  
“Bean, that’s what we’re here for,” Zayn started, “you’re allowed to wake us up. We won’t be mad--we just want to help you. Of course we wished you didn’t have to deal with the nightmares, but we want you to sleep love. It’s not healthy to avoid sleeping.”  
Bean just nodded. I took the chance of coming to sit next to her, reaching out to carefully take her shaking hand. Surprisingly, she didn’t pull away, just tensed up slightly.   
“How can we help you Bean?”  
She didn’t respond for several seconds. Eventually she shrugged and said,  
“Keep waking me up? It reminds me I’m not there anymore. Er, you don’t have to.”  
“No, Bean, of course. It’s no trouble. Now please, love, go sleep before you collapse on the couch.”  
Nodding, Bean gathered her book and headed for the stairs, only pausing to say a quiet “thank you,” and disappearing.


	9. Chapter 9

I woke up with a start. Without even processing, I threw on a shirt and quickly ran over to Bean’s room, pausing to hear her next terrified sound before quietly opening the door. Once again, Bean was having a nightmare. I quietly stepped over to her shaking figure, speaking quietly to her. As her nightmare worsened, I reached out to touch her shoulder. As usual, she reacted quickly, scooting back deeper into the corner, arms out protectively. I maneuvered myself to be close, but not too close. Leaning against the wall, I waited, one hand out, palm up. An offering, I figured.   
I didn’t expect her to take my hand, but she did. I almost startled at the contact, but instead, gently curled my fingers around her small right hand. We sat like that for quite a while, Bean seemingly stuck in her thoughts. Eventually, I realized that she had dozed off, still propped up against the wall and holding my hand. With my one free hand, I pulled a blanket up and tucked it around her shoulders, placing a few extra pillows around her small body. As much as I wanted to stay with her, ready to comfort her through the next nightmare, I figured she would freak out even more if she woke up to me sleeping in her room, even with considerable distance between us. Thus, after gently removing my hand from hers, I crept out of her room.   
This became a pattern. Every night, I would hear Bean having a nightmare, run to her room, and hold her hand until she fell asleep. We never talked about it, and I could see that she was less tired during the day. Though still jumpy around us, I felt as though we were making progress. She even went to her first therapy session. Bean didn’t say much about it, but didn’t protest going back for another. Progress.


	10. Chapter 10

Omniscient POV

 

The One Direction residence was getting busier and busier. Touring season was near, the album was about to be released, and the boys were visiting loved ones before jetting off across the world. They had been putting in extra hours at the studio, coming back to fall asleep on the couch from exhaustion. Louis, in an attempt to surprise his Harry (and the rest, of course) with dinner, managed to drop four cookie sheets on the tile kitchen floor without waking up Harry or Zayn. Niall went the previous week to Ireland, and Harry and Louis were out this week.  With all of this, Bean was alone at the house frequently.  The following week, Bean would be going with Zayn off to Bradford. Liam would be heading out later that same week. Logically, Liam knew it would be good to have a few nights without waking up to go calm Bean, especially since sleep wasn’t exactly a number one priority on tour.  He would finally get an uninterrupted night of sleep, not that he minded waking up to sit with Bean, but it would be good to rest up. 

Bean, of course, had never experienced anything like tour and Liam could only imagine how difficult the whole thing could be for her.  The world didn’t know that Zayn was fostering Bean, and before tour, her existence would have to be announced. Considering how shy and skittish Bean was, Liam was sure she would struggle with this next step.  Even Bean had been drawn into the pre-tour madness. Twice last week, she had to go to the studio with the boys so their own stylists could fit her for eventwear and outing wear considering she would soon too be a semi-public figure.  As much as Zayn fought it, everyone was going to know about Bean, even if it would stress her mental health. Thus, the stylist was strictly instructed to listen to Bean’s wishes: long sleeves, nothing above mid-calf, no see-through materials. Bean, at first, fought Zayn on formal wear, not understanding that she would have to attend some awards shows with them. Nonetheless, she had three long sleeve (or paired with a light jacket), ankle-length dresses for formal events. Also, Bean was already packed.  Zayn had tried to get her to go shopping for months, with minimal success, so Bean didn’t have much to pack. She didn’t bring almost anything with her, thus her suitcase was quite small. The poor girl had no idea what attention and uncomfortable moments association with One Direction would bring her. 

She was, however, aware that the tight quarters of the touring bus would bring problems. Just the previous night, after Bean had woken up from a nightmare and Liam sat with her, Bean had asked Liam a question. 

_ “I will be on the tour bus with you, yes?” Liam confidently replied, _

_ “Of course Bean, and you can even pick your bunk first. Zayn and I will be close by and you can still wake me up.” _

_ “But I will wake up everyone.” _

_ “Bean, love, we really don’t mind. We can keep our routine,” He rambled, gently tipping her chin to look at him directly. “Of course I hope that one day you won’t have to experience such terrors every night. But until then, I, and all of us, we want to do what we can to make this as comfortable as possible, got it?” _

_ She only nodded, gripping Liam’s hand a bit tighter and cautiously resting her head on his shoulder. Before long, she was asleep and he once again, pulled the blanket up to her shoulders and returned to his own room.  _


	11. Chapter 11

The following day, the boys had a pre-tour meeting with Simon. This time, Bean had to go with them, not because they didn’t want her at the house alone but because Simon had something to discuss with her. Bean was now somewhat comfortable around the boys, particularly Liam and Zayn. She was not comfortable with Simon, and the thought of having to talk with him, possibly alone, in a closed space was nerve-wracking. While the boys were in their meeting, Bean sat outside with her still-closed book, too nervous to even read. When they finally finished, they sent in Bean, Zayn checking in to make sure she was okay. Bean just nodded, keeping her eyes on the floor before quietly entering the office. Upon Simon’s instruction, Bean sat down on a seat across from him, scooting as far away from him as possible without raising concern. He started,  
“I asked you here today to discuss how we will be introducing you to the fans. My current plan, as suggested by one of the boys, is to have you join the boys on TV during their Today Show interview during the first week of tour. Okay?”  
Had Simon looked up at the word TV, he would have seen that Bean was already shaking her head, clearly uncomfortable. Looking up he questioned,  
“Bean?”  
“No sir. Not television. I would prefer not to talk.” Sighing, Simon replied,  
“Well that makes this rather difficult, and I suppose I can’t talk you into it, can I?” Seeing her clearly negative response, Simon abruptly stood up, strode over to the door and called in Zayn. Explaining the situation to him, Simon asked Zayn for his input.   
“Why doesn’t she come out for the last bit of a meet and greet? Just as we are wrapping up, she comes out, we introduce her, and head straight for the cars?”  
“I suppose that will work, Bean?” Bean asked,  
“These are crowded events? Lots of people?” Just at the thought of having to weave her way through a crowd to stay with Zayn was enough to make her hands shake slightly.  
“Yes, but for the last bit we use security to give the boys space enough for them to say goodbye to the whole crowd. No one would be within ten feet of you.” Pausing for a second, Bean cautiously looked at Simon’s expectant face before saying,  
“Okay.”   
“Perfect.”  
With that, Zayn said his goodbyes to Simon, gathered the boys, and they all hopped in the car with Harry driving. Bean was in the backseat next to Liam, and on his side was Zayn. None of the boys had addressed Bean after her meeting with Simon, seeing her nervous state. Once in the car, Liam left his hand, palm up, between himself and Bean, just as he would do every night when waiting for her to calm down from her nightmare. Cautiously, Bean placed her hand on his.   
“You okay Bean?” Bean only nodded in response. She wasn’t okay, but she wasn’t going to say anything. And Liam knew that, but there was nothing he could do but wait unless she brought it up. Acknowledging this, Liam gently squeezed her hand, using his thumb to rub circles on the top of her hand. Bean just stared out the window, wondering how mad the boys would be when Zayn told them that she had refused to join them for the interview.


	12. Chapter 12

Bean couldn’t sit still. After the meeting with Simon, Louis and Harry scooted off together to do things Bean certainly didn’t want to think about, Niall immediately fell asleep on the couch, Zayn curled up with a book, and Liam, well, he was trying to do something that would allow him to watch Bean without being detected. Every few minutes Bean would get up and grab a glass of water, or get a different book from upstairs, or just go outside. Liam, as well as Zayn, could tell that she was on edge, and noticeably so, however, Zayn was planning to let her come to him when ready. Liam couldn’t handle it--Bean was making Liam worried with all her anxious energy so finally, when Bean’s hand wouldn’t stop shaking as she cautiously picked up a piece of bread from her plate (an action she had already done three times without actually taking a bite), Liam asked her,   
“Bean, what’s going on?” With that, Bean’s hand shook so hard the bread dropped from her hand back on her plate. Refusing eye contact she stared at the bread, almost as if she wished it would eat her instead. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, even Niall’s attention had shifted from food to her and Louis and Harry had finally emerged from their own little world to see what was going on. Cautiously, Liam asked again,  
“Bean?” She didn’t even look up before muttering a barely audible,  
“You can return me.” This time Zayn, putting a hand on Liam’s arm to stop him from speaking, said,  
“Bean, love, we never said anything about returning you. If you want this, then okay, but if this is about what you think we want, you are dead wrong love.”  
“No, I don’t, you shouldn’t, I-”  
“Just tell us love, we can fix this.”  
“No, you can’t. Your job is to sing, make music, and talk with people. Interviews, meet and greets, even walking on the street, you’re talking, all the time, and I can’t even handle the thought of having to introduce myself in a pre-recorded interview? You can return me, I’m too much of a hassle and you can certainly find some other rag-tag kid who would happily do this instead of refusing to speak after everything nice you all have done for me.” Bean slumped in her seat, a rare moment when we could see her anxieties written clearly on her face, not bothering to attempt to be covert.   
Zayn, pausing to take a breath, replied,  
“We don’t care if you don’t want to speak in public, we aren’t going to pressure you to do something you are uncomfortable with. We brought you to our world, but we’re not expecting you to join this aspect of it. You don’t even have to show your face at the meet and greet if it makes you too uncomfortable. Love, we would really love for you to stay with us, if you are willing. I know you don’t feel safe, here or anywhere, but we are trying, and we will do anything to make this okay for you.”  
Bean glanced sideways at him, a rare moment of eye contact. It was almost as if she was trying to see straight through his skull and into his head, analysing his words to see if he was being honest. Breaking eye contact, she nodded,  
“Okay.” 

Bean didn’t really eat anything, not even the piece of bread she dropped on her plate. But Liam could see that by the end of the evening, her hand wasn’t shaking anymore, and she almost looked calm, as if she had received the reassurance needed to relax, even if just for a moment. That night, after waking up from her nightmare, Bean actually snuggled up to Liam, resting her head on his shoulder, a sort of thank you gesture. 

Baby steps.


	13. Chapter 13

Surprisingly, the following few days went well. Even with Liam leaving to visit his family, Bean was mostly okay. Every night she would have her normal nightmare and instead, Zayn would come sit with her. He didn’t come as close as Liam, and Bean didn’t fall asleep as fast but she didn’t panic at the sight of him alone. The silence and Zayn’s consistently calm, patient manner seemed to help. With these nights, Zayn could see that Bean was packing. Although she didn’t have much, he could clearly see a small suitcase for their trip the following week to Bradford and one larger for tour. The suitcases rested open on the bed-- at least she was able to use the bed for something considering that she still wasn’t comfortable with sleeping on it. This action made Zayn wonder how tour would go-- each of them would have their own bunk, maybe Bean would just have to decide for herself whether to sleep on the bunk or underneath it. The space underneath was tight, and generally used for storing suitcases, but he was sure they would figure something out. Anything so that Bean would be comfortable. Of course he hoped that eventually, especially with therapy, that Bean would be comfortable enough to sleep on beds again, but that was a thought for later.  
Just the other day, Zayn had checked on Bean’s school progress. She seemed to be completing her schooling at an alarmingly fast rate in everything except maths. Zayn did some of his own math, figuring that she had just enough online high school to get her through tour, but after that she would need to think about what she wanted to do--college, maybe? All Zayn knew was that he couldn’t worry about that now, Bean was doing wonderfully in school and she was slowly becoming more comfortable with them. However, he knew there was so much that she was hiding from them. The terrors that woke her up every night seemed to be each unique, almost as if her nightmares were flashbacks to bad moments in her past. Other than inadvertently through nightmares, Bean hadn’t really spoken about any of these with them, and Zayn could only imagine the pain and the struggle she experienced coping with it all and hiding it from them. She always wore long-sleeves and pants, Zayn assumed to hide scars. This therapist seemed to be good for her, and Bean seemed to be quite close with Liam, both positives in Zayn’s mind. So he let it go, figuring that he would once again be patient, and wait for when Bean was ready to share that part of herself with them. 

Liam, on the other hand, couldn’t stop worrying about Bean. At night, he would wake up at about the time when she would normally have a nightmare, only to realize that there was nothing he could do for her while in Wolverhampton. Of course, he had told her to text or call at any time, but she had yet to take him up on the offer. Thus far, Bean had only used her phone for basic, necessary communication, so he hadn’t heard anything from her during his trip. Logically, he knew Bean was fine. Zayn, as well as the others, were so good to her, but Liam wanted to be there himself. It wasn’t until Ruth pointed it out to him that Liam realized that he was talking more about Bean than almost anyone else during his visit. The girl meant a lot to Liam, even in her short time with them, and Liam wasn’t quite sure what to make of that. Perhaps it was because they were so close in age, Bean being just a year younger than himself. [Author’s note: In this fiction, Liam is the youngest of the One Direction members, being 18]. With Ruth’s comment, he realized he really needed to focus on his family, at least while he was there. He cared about Bean, but she was in good hands and there was nothing he could do then. 

Liam took a very early flight out of Wolverhampton just a few days later. He was sad to leave his family after such a short visit, but they understood. It didn’t take long for his flight to land, him to be escorted out of the airport and into a car, arriving back at the One Direction house by 6:30 am. Normally, at this time, everyone was still very much asleep except Bean, who should have already gone for her run and be upstairs, waiting until at least 8am to start breakfast, considering the earliest anyone else would show their face would be 9. Thus, Liam made sure to open the door quietly, turning the night alarm off that Bean always reset after her run. Doing this, he quietly dropped his bags, making his way to the kitchen that he expected to be empty to make himself morning tea. Rounding the corner to the kitchen, Liam stopped abruptly. Bean was sitting in a chair at the island, cradling her left arm where her hand used to be, shaking. Her entire body was curled over in pain, as tears silently streaked down her face. Quickly Liam crouched before her, meeting at her level. Slowly, her eyes lifted from the floor, scanning up to reach his face, as if she had previously been stuck inside her pain. Looking him directly in the eyes, she slid down from the chair and to his chest, his arms wrapping around her in a warming, protective embrace. She nestled her head against his chest, still cradling her arm, reacting to a pain in her arm while her shaking slowly ceased. They stood like that until 6:45, when Bean took in a slow breath and confessed,  
“Sometimes I have ghost pains. I can feel my hand burning, and my entire arm burning as well, but there’s nothing that can stop the pain. It’s like a nightmare, but I’m wide awake and still can’t escape the pain.” Trailing off at the end, Bean slumped against Liam, slowly releasing the grip on her hand-less arm. Liam, recognizing that this was the first time she spoke about how she lost her hand, tightened his embrace, nuzzling his nose down on top of her head,  
“I wish I could stop the pain, love. I wish I could.” Bean only shook her head against his chest before carefully removing herself from his arms. Wanting to change the conversation, Bean asked quietly,  
“How was your trip?” Cautiously checking to make sure she really was alright, Liam eventually answered,  
“Good, nice to see the family before we go on tour. I’ll miss ‘em, but it’s nice to be back.” As he took the opportunity to ramble a bit, talking about highlights from his trip, Bean prepared them both a cup of tea. Now Liam noticed that Bean was still in her running clothes, not having even taken her shoes off yet. They carried their tea to the couch and Bean curled up on one end, sipping her tea and listening to Liam rambling. He could still see that her eyes were red, but she was asking questions about his trip, engaging with him almost as an anchor to pull herself out of the past and into the present. Liam felt his heart tingle at the thought that his presence could help Bean recover from her moments of terror, even during daylight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As noted in this chapter, I have taken the liberty of making Liam the youngest. He is 19 in this work. All references to tour and such are entirely fictional, based loosely off my vague understanding of the alternation between recording and touring.


	14. Chapter 14

Later that day, Zayn came upstairs to check in on Bean. The boys were all going out to lunch, and he wanted to see if she would go with them. Tapping lightly on her door, he waited until she told him he could come in before slowly opening the door. Bean was curled up on the floor, an envelope open on the ground, a few pictures beside it, and one clasped in her hands. Slowly walking over to her, giving her time to choose: hide the pictures, or let Zayn see them. She let him see the pictures, not bothering to move as he sat next to her. He noticed how Bean’s body went rigid, before relaxing slightly at his presence next to her. Peering over her shoulder, Zayn saw an image of a woman and a young girl, the girl enamored by a butterfly that had landed on the palm of her hand.   
“It’s me and my mum,” Bean confirmed. This was the first time that Zayn had seen a picture of young Bean or her family. Her mum was wearing a plain, conservative saree, Bean in a tiny salwar kameez. “This was just a few months after we moved to the UK,” Bean added. Cautiously, Zayn picked up another photo next to the envelope, this one depicting a man with his arms wrapped around a slightly older Bean and sporting a enthusiastic grin, her mother standing next to them.   
Zayn and Bean sat together like that for twenty-some minutes, looking over the few old photos. Eventually, Liam stood in the doorway, before joining them. Quietly glancing over the photos for a few minutes, he placed a light kiss on the top of Bean’s head before reminding them about their plans.  
Holding out a hand for Bean and one for Zayn, he said “Come on, let’s get lunch.” Bean hesitated, but took Liam’s hand, following him out the room and leaving the photos scattered on the ground. 

Ordering food is hard for Bean. The boys hadn’t eaten out with Bean yet, and just from ordering take-out with her they could anticipate that this lunch might be a bit of a struggle. Unfortunately for Bean, the stressful act of ordering food would become a regular occurrence in just two short weeks. They made sure, as they always do, to get a booth in the far corner, hopefully as out of sight as possible. Of course, Paul and Mark were only a few minutes away and on call, but they hoped to avoid needing them as extra protection.   
Bean had picked up her menu, as had the rest of the boys. Niall already decided what to get, waiting for the others. Zayn was sitting next to Bean, and Bean was on the edge, giving her an escape route should she wish to have some space. For Bean, every item of on the menu would provide more food for her than she could imagine eating--even the appetizers. For Niall, no one dish could possibly be enough. Opposite problems, the which Bean was clearly stressing over hers whereas Niall had simply decided to order two. Eventually, after it was clear that the boys knew what they wanted, Zayn began to point out options for Bean, almost as if to lighten the overwhelming number of choices. Eventually, and very hesitantly, Bean chose a small appetizer that Zayn couldn’t help but notice was possibly the cheapest item on the menu. Bean still wasn’t quite used to living with people for whom money not an issue. However, Zayn let it slide, checking with Bean once more before placing her order with his. Understanding that just the mere act of ordering food in a restaurant was stressful for Bean, Zayn made sure to keep conversation flowing without requiring Bean’s participation. She had yet to make eye contact with anyone since entering the restaurant, and could hardly keep her hand from shaking under the table.   
The lunch served as a reminder that Bean most certainly still had issues with food. Although she had ordered the smallest dish on the menu, she barely ate 2/3ds of it. Considering how difficult the whole ordeal was for her, Zayn let it slide, and as soon as they got back to the house, Bean had closed herself in her room for the rest of the afternoon. However, he decided that if Bean wasn’t going to eat much, then at least she should be getting the most out of what she did eat, and thus set about researching nutritionists to see if he could snag an appointment the following week, just before leaving on tour. Zayn figured that it couldn’t hurt to do a little research and if Bean didn’t want to go to the appointment, so be it. At least he would have a better idea of how to keep her from losing weight from her already dangerously skinny frame.


	15. Chapter 15

Two days later Bean and Zayn were on a train heading to Bradford to visit his family. Bean had never been on a train, and Zayn could see how she tried to hide her interest as she stared out the window, watching the countryside go by. It might be the calmest he had ever seen her. To ensure their safety and Bean’s wellbeing, Zayn had booked the two of them a section of the train to themselves, complete with a wall and a door between them and the rest of the passengers. Zayn was just happy that she could take joy in the train ride itself, knowing that meeting his family would be quite difficult for her. Bean struggled with meeting new people, and he knew she would probably say only 5 words during their entire 3 day trip.  
Given how Bean was so busy looking out the window, Zayn had an opportunity to really get a good look at Bean and see how she was changing. As always, she was wearing a long sleeved jumper, her left wrist still wrapped from the amputation months ago. He figured she would need to keep it covered for another several months, perhaps a year in order for it to fully heal. Her dark skin was brightened with life, making her look vibrant rather than pale as when she had arrived. The scar through her left eyebrow was still very visible, as was the lines where she had stitches previously. Bean remained as short as ever, however with her bettered health, she began to look a bit closer to her age. As always, she was extremely thin. In order to be healthy, she needed to gain a few more pounds, however Bean did look better. He could see that she had some muscle on her bones, a pleasant change from her first day with One Direction. All of this made Zayn swell with pride, he felt like a proud parent, or maybe an extremely protective older sibling. Zayn was snapped out of his reverie when Bean said,  
“What’s your family like?” Her attention had moved from the window to Zayn, although she, as always, didn’t maintain eye contact for long.  
Pulling in a deep breath, he started with his sisters, describing a studious Doniya, a social Waliyha, and an exuberant Safaa. It was at this point that Zayn had never even encouraged Bean to join him in skyping his family. He realized that this might have taken some of the pressure off meeting them today, but it was too late now. Going on, he described his mum,  
“My mum, Trisha, she’s the sweetest lady. I asked her to go easy, but she is more stubborn than Harry when it comes to getting enough to eat.” He could see Bean tense just a bit, a slightly worried expression invading her mostly calm face. “My dad, he’s taller and broader than me, but he is quite relaxed in many ways. They’ll love you Bean,” he tagged on, seeing Bean’s face get more worried. With that, Bean returned her attention to the window, and remained like that for the remainder of the journey, face clouded with worry.

Before long, Zayn and Bean were standing on the sidewalk outside a quaint house in Bradford. Bean was subconsciously tugging down the sleeves of her jumper scanning the house, almost as if looking for signs of trouble. Zayn waited with her, letting her analyze the home and calm herself before he picked up their bags, and slowly made his way toward the house, making sure Bean was trailing behind him. When they reached the door, Zayn put down the bags, and faced Bean.  
“You okay with this?,” he asked, scanning her face. Bean was still looking at the door, trying to see through the decorative glass window panes. She let her hands drop to her sides before nodding, and looking intently at the mat beneath their feet. Gently, Zayn placed a finger under her chin, pausing when she flinched, and raised her head to look at him.  
“You sure?” Finally retaining eye contact, she nodded again, before dropping her gaze. Recognizing that Bean wasn’t going to feel comfortable no matter what, Zayn stepped forward and opened the door,  
“Mum, Da? We’re home!” Zayn left the door open and stepped inside, leaving enough space for Bean to either enter with him, or stay out for a bit longer. She stepped forward, without entering the house, peering around the doorframe. Zayn was shortly bombarded by a girl Bean could only guess was Safaa, followed by Waliyha, then Doniya. His mum stood a few feet away, letting her daughters greet him before wrapping him tight in her arms, followed by his father. Upon seeing Yaser enter the hall, Bean took a few steps backwards. Bean could handle the girls, and maybe even Zayn’s mum, she wasn’t so sure she could handle greeting his father. So she watched, as the family asked him far more questions than he could answer. A few curious glances were shot over at her, and Bean figured Zayn had also told his sisters to let him introduce her.  
Pulling away from his family, Zayn stepped back and looked at Bean, analyzing her face to see if she could handle this. Carefully, he wrapped his arm around Bean’s shoulder, guiding her into the house.  
“Mum, Da, girls, I’d like to introduce you to Bean. Bean, this is my family.” Bean shared a guarded smile and a small wave, and Trisha said,  
“It’s wonderful to finally meet you Bean--we’ve heard so much! Make yourself right at home. Here, Safaa can show you up to Zayn’s room and you can get settled in.” Gesturing to Safaa, who had jumped on her brother’s back and was holding him in a giant bear hug, Trisha explained, “When Zayn comes home, Safaa makes sure he stays in her room. Okay Zayn?” If Zayn wanted to protest, he wouldn’t be able to. With Safaa completely smothering him, he looked happy as a clam and wouldn’t have it any other way.  
Still walking around with Safaa on his back like a little monkey, Zayn grabbed his bags and Bean grabbed hers, following the pair upstairs. Once upstairs, Zayn walked straight into Safaa’s room, gently shaking her off and setting down his bag.  
“Saf, go on downstairs and help mum, okay? I’ll take Bean to my room.” Pouting, Safaa bounced downstairs, leaving Bean to follow Zayn to his own room. Setting her stuff down in the corner, Zayn sat on a chair in the corner and looked intently at Bean, who stood by the window, head still down, nervously tugging at the sleeve of her jumper. Sighing, Zayn started,  
“Get yourself settled in love. I’m going to head downstairs, join us when you’re ready.” Almost as if he could read her mind, he settled her worries. “They don’t care about your lost hand, or about your past. They just want to get to know you, okay? I promise love, they already adore you and you haven’t even said a word.” With that, he left, quietly closing the door behind himself.


	16. Chapter 16

Bean was standing at the top of the stairs, listening to Zayn and his family downstairs. Chatting away happily, they were oblivious to Bean’s dilemma--go downstairs and join them, or stay upstairs and avoid human interaction. If she stayed upstairs, no one would ask her questions, she wouldn’t have to speak, and wouldn’t have to worry about where she could sit so that no one was too close and an exit was nearby. Bean knew eventually she would have to go downstairs, but she just kept hoping maybe some of them would go outside, at least then there would be fewer people to get past if she needed an escape. 

Eventually, Bean sat on the stairs and just listened to the family interact, getting a feel for each personality. She was so focused on this that she didn’t hear Zayn approach the stairs, noticing him only once he entered her field of vision. Startled out of her reverie, Bean quickly stood up, but didn’t retreat after seeing Zayn’s gentle look that she had learned to mean something like, “Wait, if you really don’t want to hear what I want to say you can go. Otherwise, just hear me out.” So she stayed, a bit wary of how he would react to catching her eavesdropping on his family. Instead, he simply sat on the second to last step, leaving a considerable distance between them before asking,  
“Too many people?”  
Looking at the floor, Bean nodded affirmatively.  
“If you like, I can have Safaa and Waliyha go outside for a bit. Okay?”  
Pausing, Bean finally nodded. The person she really didn’t feel ready to face was Mr. Malik, however, from her eavesdropping, she guessed that he was seated away from the door, in the big chair in the corner. Thus, it would be easy for Bean to find herself a seat between Mr. Malik and the door, just in case she wanted to escape. Of course he was Zayn’s father, and Zayn had only talked about him in a positive manner, but Bean couldn’t put aside the lessons that years in foster care had taught her--always be able to escape from the “man of the house.”   
Zayn stood up from his place on the stairs, scanning Bean’s face once more before heading back to his family. Returning a few minutes later, he waited for Bean to walk halfway down the stairs before rejoining his family, taking a seat on the now empty couch closest to the door. Still to scared to make eye contact, Bean quietly joined him, curling up on the end and remaining a silent participant in conversation. Zayn must have asked his family to let her be, because none of them directly asked her any questions, letting her remain silent.   
At dinner, Bean was again silent, only picking at her food. Zayn had intercepted his mum, serving her about what she normally would eat. She only ate half, and Zayn could see her hand shaking slightly with each bite. He carefully sat her next to him and at the end of the table, near his mum and far away from his dad. After dinner, they played board games, Trisha sitting out with Bean. A small part of Bean believed that Trisha’s actions were intended to make her feel less out of place, but Bean didn’t allow herself to entertain such ridiculous thoughts for long.   
Her night was, of course, sleepless. She didn’t even bother trying to sleep. As the sun rose, she dared to slip downstairs and make a cup of tea. Although she had the kitchen to herself as the stars filtered out of the sky, Trisha eventually made her way downstairs, startling Bean as she had zoned out at the table. Jolting back to reality, Bean made to get up but Trisha stopped her by holding up one hand, which clearly said stay. Trisha proceeded to make two cups of tea and join Bean. After setting the hot cup next to Bean’s chilled tea, Trisha took her own a couple of seats away, enough to give Bean space while being close enough for easy conversation. While the pair remained mostly silent, Trisha occasionally made a comment, slowly talking more and more about Zayn in his younger days, when he was rebellious but fiercely protective of his younger sisters. Bean nodded along, slowly de-tensing her shoulders, daring to peek up long enough to catch the look of joy that graced Trisha’s face when she talked about her children. Bean could easily say this was her favorite part of the day. For once, she was actually calm around someone other than the boys.   
The rest of the day wasn’t so smooth. Breakfast was difficult because Trisha served Bean, giving her more food than she would eat on a good day. The girls were highly energetic and Safaa was prone to making loud screechy noises, making Bean flinch and jump. In the afternoon, Yaser tried to make conversation with Bean as Zayn went to the kitchen to make Safaa a snack. Bean froze on the couch, barely able to nod in response to yes/no questions. When Zayn finally came back, he led Bean upstairs, where she stayed trying and failing to read the book she brought. By dinner, the girls began to try to include Bean in conversation. She did her best to respond but was too nervous to do much but pick at her food. Finally, as Safaa was leading Zayn up to go to sleep, she overheard Safaa asking him what was wrong with her. Needless to say, Bean was happy that they would be leaving the following evening.


	17. Chapter 17

The following morning began the same as the previous. Bean silently made her way downstairs at dawn, making herself a cup of tea. About 45 minutes later, Trisha joined her and they sipped tea together, Trisha telling more stories about Zayn, more so about his early One Direction years, praising the rest of the band as well. She told stories of the shenanigans they pulled when they stayed with the family just overnight years ago, and the comfort they provided Zayn when he was homesick, stressed, or just having a bad day. After telling a particularly funny story about how Louis had ruined the kitchen after attempting to make dinner, Trisha and Bean decided it was time to make breakfast. Trisha let Bean help her, although she was unsure of how Bean could cook with one hand. Bean quickly surpassed any doubts Trisha had as she quickly set about making pancakes, eggs, etc. She still attempted to hide her wrist in her pocket, tucking the wrap out of sight. Trisha stated,  
“Bean, darling, you don’t need to hide your arm from us. We like you just as much, hand or no hand.”  
In that moment, Bean froze, making Trisha fear that she caused Bean to pull away. However, Bean eventually nodded, pulling her arm out of her pocket, and using her arm as support in her cooking, making everything much easier. Although Bean was still quiet, she was finally beginning to relax a bit, enjoying the company of Trisha. She was even okay when Waliyha and Donia joined. However, with Yaser’s entrance in the kitchen, Bean reverted to her extremely timid, walking-on-glass style nervousness. Trisha and Donia clearly picked up on this, choosing to say nothing when Bean used the kitchen island as a buffer zone between herself and Yaser. Despite Bean’s clearly nervous behavior, Yaser seemed to take no notice, sipping his tea and gaily chatting, occasionally directing a question or comment to Bean, who barely managed to provide a non-verbal answer. Tired of the tension and worried for Bean’s stress levels, Donia discretely got her father to sit in the living room and read the morning paper, allowing Bean to slowly release some tension. When Yaser returned to the kitchen for a second cup of tea, Bean went upstairs, even leaving a half-cooked pancake on the stove.   
Bean didn’t re-emerge until she followed a very sleepy Zayn downstairs, who was clearly dragged out of bed by Safaa. At that point, the family had breakfast. Trisha had Bean serve herself, deciding that giving Bean more food wasn’t a good way to make her eat more or be comfortable in their home. Zayn noticed the appreciative smile that briefly graced Bean’s face, and the calmer look she had during the whole meal, only fading when Yaser would ask a question directed at her.   
As happy Zayn was that Bean was finally becoming more comfortable, he could see her exhaustion. There were small bags under her eyes, and once Yaser went out to run some errands with Safaa, Bean nearly fell asleep on the couch. He figured she had been sleeping poorly, too frightened by the new place, or perhaps simply his father. Despite being a friendly, kind man, Yaser always seemed to terrify Bean. Zayn figured she was hurt by a man about Yaser’s size before, perhaps this was why she was so skiddish around him, but able to relax somewhat around Trisha. It made him thankful that Bean was becoming so comfortable around the boys, particularly Liam and himself, but even Harry, especially if they would cook together, and Louis and Niall when they were relatively calm. With Bean in the house, Louis had cut down some of his antics, or at least saving them for when she was out. However, he was slowly introducing some back in, and Zayn could see him watching Bean’s reaction as covertly as possible, reacting to her and cutting is pranks short if necessary. However, the previous week she had even audibly giggled when he snuck up on a sleeping Harry and put whip cream on his nose.   
Needless to say, Bean was happy to head home. Wahliya had grown out of a few more shirts, jumpers, and jeans, which Zayn had gathered for Bean. Although this made her uncomfortable, Trisha’s insistence that she take the clothes seemed to help. As they said their goodbyes, Bean managed to wave and maintain eye contact with Trisha and the girls, only still shying away from Yaser. On the train home, Bean once again looked out the window, as if this was only her second time on a train. Perhaps it was. Once again, Bean startled Zayn out of his analysis, asking,  
“Do you miss them?”  
He replied, “Always, but we text and skype often, so it isn’t so bad. The worst part is seeing how much my sisters have grown up without me. Do you miss your parents?” He wondered if he would get an answer. After a minute, Bean replied,   
“Everyday.” She remained silent, turning back to the window before saying,  
“Your mum’s nice.”  
At this, Zayn smiled, happy that Bean finally seemed to connect just a little bit with someone outside of the boys. This made him hope that she could connect just a little bit with Lou, their stylist. Although Lou and Trisha were incredibly different, Lou would realize that Bean needed to see the calmer, more motherly side that only emerges when the boys need a little extra emotional support.

 

When they finally got home, Bean carried her bag upstairs, coming back with a book and sitting on the other end of the couch from Liam. It didn’t take her long to doze off. When she began to shake slightly, a sign of an impending nightmare, Liam gently placed a hand on her shoulder. Although she jumped slightly, she quickly regained her surroundings, accepting Liam’s hand and leaning against his shoulder, only to doze off again. Zayn looked on approvingly, before heading off to bed himself. Bean eventually woke up to a particularly loud commercial, slipping upstairs and to sleep, for once having a nearly nightmare-free night, only waking up quietly just as the sun began to rise.


	18. Chapter 18

There were only 3 days left until the boys and Bean would be moving into the tour buses, and heading out. First, they would tour the UK, then Europe, then on to America [Author’s note: I invented this tour. Liam is 18, and all the boys are older. Bean is still 17]. Bean was packed, even though she was clearly the least thrilled for tour: she was terrified. How would she withstand constantly being in new places, living in a very tight tour bus with the boys, and being surrounded by unfamiliar crew members? She couldn’t retreat to her room anymore. At least Liam, Zayn, and the boys would look out for her. Zayn, tired of trying to get Bean to buy clothes with him, finally dropped her off with a couple hundred quid at a department store and told her that she had to buy some basic clothing. While Bean looked fine, she couldn’t survive just in three long sleeves and two pairs of jeans, most of which was Wahliya’s. One hour later, Bean re-emerged, one bag full, having spent under 100 pounds. Zayn couldn’t fathom how she managed to get a new wardrobe for so little, but as she began to wear the new clothes, Zayn could see that she had good taste, even if she was dressed quite plainly. Nonetheless, Bean was ready to go, at least physically.  
Liam was mostly packed, like Zayn. Harry and Louis were still debating over several sweaters, some of which Louis insisted were his but had really permanently borrowed from Harry. Niall hadn’t even started, the only thing that kept Zayn from worrying was that Louise had his wardrobe for performances, interviews and public appearances, which was all that really mattered at the end of the day. He could live on the bus in boxers, for all that he cared.  
Bean seemed to have realized that her opportunities to cook, bake, and essentially, spend time in a kitchen were limited. By the end of the day, Bean had baked muffins and made waffles for breakfast, an exquisite lunch, and even dinner, all from food that they needed to get rid of before going on tour. Zayn had assumed that cooking was something Bean felt obliged to do, but now it seemed as if it was something she enjoyed, or perhaps was a mechanism for dealing with the stress of packing for tour. Liam, being mostly packed, spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen, sometimes working on his computer, other times babbling at Bean.  
“Which cities are you looking forward to seeing?” Liam had asked, trying to break his monologue.  
“Stockholm, Oslo, Reykjavik, Zurich, Washington, Seattle, Vancouver, Boston. All of them.”  
“All of them?,” Liam encouraged.  
“All of them. Other than Peshawar, I’ve only been to London.”  
“Well then, we’ll have to show you every city.”  
Bean paused, looking Liam in the eyes for once. Liam could see hope, anticipation, and wonder, and finally, no fear. Liam broke out a smile upon noticing, which Bean actually returned, before blushing and returning her attention to chopping the veggies she intended to use for dinner. Liam could hardly contain the affection he felt, realizing that Bean was finally becoming comfortable around them, or at least him and Zayn.  
But how would this change during tour?


	19. Chapter 19

One day before leaving on tour. Bean had double and triple checked her bags, not that there was much to check. Harry was helping Louis finish his packing, and Liam was helping Niall, who didn’t seem to understand that he had to pack before leaving on tour. Zayn took Bean to the doctor one more time before tour. The doctor seemed to approve of how her wounds were healing. All the stitches had been out for quite a while. The scars were still very visible, but starting to fade at the edges. Nonetheless, the doctor did ask Zayn to continue to watch Bean’s weight, as she was still too thin, and gave him a list of foods of high nutritional value to stock up on as snacks. Bean wasn’t even surprised this time when she answered the nurse, saying yes, they are nice to me, no, they haven’t hit me, and even, yes, I’m happy here.  
Through all the chaos, Bean even came to stand in Niall’s doorway, watching Liam do most of the packing, while Niall looked through clothes with a befuddled look on his face. Niall had packed all his music gear, but seemed a bit clueless as to how to get the clothes to fit in the suitcase. Bean just watched the scene, certainly not wanting to step through the mess or leave the doorway, as she’d never been in Niall’s room. She’d followed Liam and Zayn just inside their rooms, always looking uncomfortable. Here, Bean’s forehead was creased with constant anxiety, but this was normal. Eventually, Liam looked up from his work, noticing Bean silently watching, even noticing a small smile on her face from Niall’s joking.  
“You doing okay, Bean?”  
Bean nodded in response. Liam watched her face, knowing she was all packed, and that her room was spotless, as well as the kitchen, a space which she was increasingly beginning to dominate. She’d made breakfast that morning, but opted to prepare leftovers for lunch, realizing they wouldn’t be there soon to eat everything she’d stress-cooked.  
“Who is travelling with us?” Bean asked quietly.  
Liam and Zayn had already answered this question, but it was clearly a question which worried Bean. Together, Liam and Niall listed off their stage crew, band members, manager, as well as their cosmetic and fashion artists, including Lou. Contemplating the list, Bean quietly asked,  
“May I bake for them?”  
Liam replied, “Absolutely, love. They’d appreciate it very much.” And Niall tagged on,  
“Bake for me too!,” thinking of her muffins, cookies, and other delicacies she’d concocted over the months. Taking one more look at Niall’s train-wreck of a room, and shooting Liam a pitied look, Bean slipped out of the doorway and to the kitchen. She spent the rest of the afternoon baking, carefully packaging up the muffins, cookies, and bread. Halfway through her endeavor, Harry and Zayn came to the kitchen, asking who she was baking for. With her reply, both looked like proud parents, gleaming with affection for this girl they’d just begun to know. Bean stacked up the boxes of goodies alongside the luggage in the doorway, each carefully labeled. By this point, Bean looked calmer, baking relieved some of her stress, ensuring a good impression on these people she would have to navigate over the next few months.  
Early in her foster care experiences, Bean learned that cooking and baking, when food was available, was a quick way to make a good first impression. These skills proved she wasn’t worthless, providing her with something to give as a sort of appeasement. This tactic didn’t keep her from being at the wrong end of a belt or worse, but it provided her with a stress reliever, and something to offer. Although Bean recognized that the boys were different, she couldn’t be sure about the crew. Bean barely trusted the boys on a good day, how could she handle being around all these new people, every day, without escape?  
Leaving the kitchen, Bean retreated to her room, checking her bags over again. She had her blankets and pillows in one bag, her clothes in another, and Louis’s old laptop in a small shoulder bag that Eleanor gave her. Bean pulled out an old envelope, taking out its contents and spreading the pictures on the floor. A picture of her with the butterfly, her parents’ marriage day, the family all together. Bean wrapped her scarf around her shoulders, letting herself slip into memories of their life together. Their small apartment in Peshawar, to their even smaller one bedroom in the UK, evenings at the park, days watching her mom work at a restaurant down the street, watching the small TV in the corner, barely understanding the English quickly spilling out the TV anchors lips. Eventually, Bean pulled out Louis’s laptop, opening YouTube, and searched for the traditional music her mother listened to on the radio back in Peshawar. Sitting surrounded by the few photos she had left, and her mother’s favorite music playing, Bean wrapped her arms around her knees and observed, thinking about how far she’d come, amazed she was still alive.  
Eventually, Bean found herself carefully taking the bandages off her arm, something she only did to replace the bandages daily. Quietly and tentatively, she peeled the last layer off, and looked at her wrist, examining the slowly-healing skin. Her sleeve rolled up, lower arm fully exposed, she could see the scars covering her skin, a skin that was tanned and flawless back under the south asian sun. Burn scars traced from her wrist up her arm, with scars from the chains persisting in dark lines. Scrapes, cigarette burns, and cuts littered her arms as well, all healing slowly, but still visible. Her skin, between the scars, was pale, never seeing the sun as she always wore long-sleeves. Her right hand traced the scrapes, wincing with the memories of cigarette burns. She turned her arm over, revealing lines and lines of cuts, her attempt to control the pain, punish herself for mistakes, perhaps a hope that she would cut a little too deep. Ragged lines from glass shards, straight thin lines from razors, slanted lines from when her old foster father caught her cutting and decided to add his own to show her how unwanted she was. She shivered at the memory, turning her arm over again, examining her wrist and the healing skin over bone. It hurt to touch, such thin, new layers of skin seemed almost translucent. She was lost in her memories, not even noticing Zayn in the doorway, just watching. Shortly, Liam joined him, hair ruffled from his efforts to help Niall pack. Quietly, he entered the room, Bean eventually catching sight of his shoes, freezing for a moment, and reflexively drawing her healing arm closer to herself. He sat in front of her, just outside her circle of photos, peering curiously at her face, then resting his gaze on her arm. Zayn joined him, following his movements. Bean didn’t say a word, didn’t even look at him, instead settling her gaze on the floor in front of her, waiting for one of them to speak.  
“Does your wrist hurt?” Liam cautiously asked. Bean shrugged, and began slowly gathering her family photos, carefully placing them back in their envelope before placing the envelope in the bag.  
“May we see your arm?” He asked, quieter than before, non-committal, realizing Bean may not want them to see her arm. However, Bean uncurled her arm, keeping it close, only revealing the outer side, not letting them see the cuts. After a moment, she set about rebandaging it, slowly recovering the skin layer by layer. She didn’t look at their faces, worried as to what they might say about the scars, what they might learn about her past. When she was done rewrapping her arm, she placed it close to her abdomen, once again shielding it protectively. Zayn broke the silence,  
“You know we don’t care you have scars, right love?”  
Bean didn’t reply, keeping eye contact with the floor. Liam moved closer, asking,  
“Cigarette burns?” Bean hid her face behind her knees, not wanting to confirm his statement, feeling just a little to vulnerable. She trusted them, but not enough to explain this. Liam just stayed, realizing she didn’t want to discuss. Together they sat, Zayn eventually taking Louis’s laptop and playing some of his parents old favorites. Bean kept her head hidden, refusing eye contact, just thinking about how much she had still hidden, and how much she had to hide from the crew, and the fans. Eventually, Liam held out his hand, inviting her to stand. Zayn had repacked the laptop, and Bean realized that she could smell dinner. She’d lost track of time, spending hours just sitting, surrounded by these memories. Slowly, she took Liam’s hand, following him downstairs to the kitchen table. She sat down next to him, all the way on the end, per usual. Harry had prepared what looked the like the remains of the perishables in the fridge. They would be leaving early in the morning, most of them probably wouldn’t even eat breakfast before boarding the bus. Bean ate very little, just pushing food around on her plate, lost in her thoughts. She was thankful for the boys, how kind they’d been to her, how much they cared, the consistent access to good nutrition, but she couldn’t forget her past. She could feel every scar, every old bruise, the ghost chains. She could still feel herself starving away, just as she had in each of those previous homes. She was so stuck in her thoughts that when Louis tapped her shoulder to get her attention, she flew out of her seat, back slamming into the counter, breathing fast, before allowing herself to collapse on the floor, regaining her surroundings and taking Liam’s always outstretched hand. The boys looked concerned, not realizing how deep in her thoughts she was. Bean hadn’t reacted so sharply, other than when waking up from a nightmare, in weeks. Slowly, Bean picked herself up again, taking her seat at the table. Zayn asked,  
“Are you alright, love?”  
Bean nodded, not looking at him, hugging her left arm in closer to her chest. Everyone was silent, just watching Bean. Eventually, the boys began discussing tour, logistics, Liam doing his best to make sure Bean stayed present, keeping in the conversation. Eventually, Bean asked,  
“What am I going to do while you all are performing?”  
Zayn replied, “Well, love, you can watch from the wings if you like, you can stay in our dressing rooms, or I suppose you could stay in the bus or the hotel. It’s really up to you, but you would have to have a bodyguard with you, at least outside the door or something, for protection.”  
Bean nodded, looking a bit worried, clearly thinking about the tour. She asked,  
“When do you have the first meet and greet?”  
“Thursday,” answered Harry, “and you’ll be joining us for it, if you are up for it. You don’t have to join us for that meet and greet, but you should join us before the following Tuesday, as we are going on a talk show and we will need to introduce you by then.”  
“Will you be asked about me?”  
“If you’ve made an appearance, then certainly. The public is always very interested in whoever is with us, especially if they think it could be a potential significant other. It is best that we announce you early on, so you aren’t leaked by a sneaky fan or tabloid first.”  
Bean took a deep breath, finally making eye contact with Zayn, then glancing at all the boys, “You won’t be telling them about my past?” she asked.  
“No, of course not love. We will just say that I am fostering you, that your name is Bean, and that you will be staying with us. No details. At most, we would say that you enjoy reading Harry Potter.”  
Bean, still looking anxious, nodded, before picking up the dishes and set about clearing the kitchen, closing the conversation. Tour would start the following day, and Bean didn’t feel prepared, not in the slightest.


End file.
